a second opportunity I tried to hurry to land; but Isaac Bolum awoke
and wanted to know if he had been dreaming.

"I thot I heard some one speakin' of flyin' fishes," he said.

[Illustration: Tim and I had stopped our ploughs to draw lots and he
had lost.]

It was reckless in me to mention these sea wonders, for now in defence
of my reputation for truthfulness, I had to prove their existence. The
fabric of my story seemed to hang on them. Elmer Spiker declared that
he had heard his grandfather tell of a flying sucker that inhabited the
deep hole below the bridge when he was a boy, but this was the same
grandfather who had strung six squirrels and a pigeon on one bullet in
the woods above the mill in his early manhood. There Elmer winked.
Isaac Bolum allowed that they might be trout that had trained
themselves in the use of wings, but he did not believe that any
ordinary fish such as a chub or a pike or a sunny would care to leave
its natural element to take up with the birds. Perry Thomas began to
cough. That cough is always like a snake's warning rattle. Before he
had time to strike, I blocked the discussion by promising that if the
company suspended judgment I would in the near future prove the
accuracy of my statements on flying fishes by the encyclopaedia. This
promise met with general approval, so I hurried over the sea to the dry
land where I knew the ways better and was less likely to arouse higher
criticism. I told them of the stirring times in Cuba, till the day
came when we stormed the hill, and they had to carry me back to the
sea. I told them how lucky I was to get to the sea at all, for often I
had closed my eyes, worn out by the pain and the struggle for life,
little caring whether ever again I opened them to the light. Then